


A Song of Pits and Ladders

by trudetheobscure



Category: game of thrones
Genre: AU After S06, Canon - TV, Canon Up to S06, F/F, F/M, Gen, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:17:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trudetheobscure/pseuds/trudetheobscure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne rejoins Sansa Stark after the battle of the bastards and finds her caught up in a fresh wave of political games, trying to resist being pushed down by the purposeful men around her and find her place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Brienne tried to hide her tears as she always did, by looking viciously disgusted. She spurred her horse on with an emphatic "Hyah!" and picked up a fresh burst of speed which left the flustered Podrick even further behind. He gave his horse a few tired kicks, puffing, anxious to scramble after her.  
They were riding North, following the unsuccessful attempt to gather the Tully troops to aid in the attack on Winterfell. The failure was crushing Brienne, not in the least because it implied near certain defeat for Jon Snow's forces. _Lady Sansa's forces_ , in her mind. She had to get her out. The rightful lady of Winterfell would not survive the consequences of their defeat, the Boltons would make sure of that. Damn Jon Snow, damn Winterfell, damn the new group with their odd compilation of unsavory characters. The only thing that mattered was to keep the lady safe, those were the terms. She tried hard not to recognize that she also feared the possibility of success on Lord Snow's part, for that could mean an upcoming war against the Lannisters. Against Jaime. 

"Are we riding to the camp, M'lady?" Podrick called after her desperately. The woman had been so withdrawn ever since the somber departure from Riverrun that he had endured a few strained weeks of following her blindly wherever she galloped off to. Her routes had been obscure and difficult to read, although he guessed she was trying to avoid potential run-ins with Bolton men as they got closer and closer to Winterfell. They were giving it a very wide berth, travelling far west and skirting villages.   
Brienne recognized the area. She came to a brief halt and let him catch up.  
"This is the Wolf's Wood," she told him, grim. "I killed Stannis in these woods."  
Podrick allowed her a moment of reflection. "Should we not - could there not be Bolton soldiers about?" He looked mildly alarmed.  
Brienne's sideways look was condescending. "They sent taunting letters, they're expecting siege. I highly doubt they'd send men this far out."  
"Our lot planned to camp where Stannis did. I suppose we're close, then?"  
"To the camp, yes. But where the Lady Sansa is, I cannot guess. She would have joined Jon on their expedition to gather the Northern troops." She drank some water, cringing from the coldness of it, and passed the skin to her squire.  
"She will return before the battle, m'lady." Podrick was relieved to break from the exercise, gulping water in between heavy breaths.  
"My fear is that they may begin the battle at any moment. We may be late."  
Podrick did a double take. "I - it's not likely, m'lady. They would wait for news of the Tully army." He gave her what he thought was an encouraging nod. "We need only wait for her at the camp."  
Brienne's anger was visible at the corners of her mouth. "It is not a matter of waiting. We need to find her and take her away from here, as far away from here as possible. Immediately. We need to keep her safe."  
Podrick was taken aback. "But... We - we have returned her to her brother, m'lady. We have done what we set - "  
"We have not done anything", Brienne said through her teeth. "My pledge is to keep her from harm, and there is no hope of that here. Jon Snow and his foolhardy ambitious battles and rotten company are no place for a girl like Sansa. His battle is as good as lost. There is no hope of reclaiming Winterfell, and when that becomes evident she will be thrown to the dogs. Her only sensible play now is for survival, away from all the politics. I am the only one who is willing to make sure she has that, whether she agrees to it or not."  
Podrick's mouth was hanging open. "Surely it is not our business to dec-"  
"HYAH!" Brienne was off again, building into a furious gallop, face contorted. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa was riding hard towards Moat Cailin, gritting her teeth at the recent memory of Ramsay's smiling threats outside Winterfell. If Littlefinger had gotten her raven and planned to fulfill his promise, she would meet his army on the way. The knights of the Vale had no need to travel off the king's road, the Boltons were sufficiently occupied, any warning would now be too late. If her raven had been shot down, she would ask for help herself. If Littlefinger wasn't waiting for her, at least she would be as far from Ramsey as possible. Death at the hand of bandits was likely preferable. She spent a moment wondering where she would ride to if Littlefinger was not, as promised, waiting to help. That would clearly be a sign of betrayal, so it wouldn't be the Eyrie. Riverrun would be lost to the Lannisters. Either the Blackfish would have been slaughtered, or - though the hope was slim - the Tully forces were already marching to aid her and Jon. She shuddered to think what may have happened to Brienne if her attempts to bargain with the Lannisters were shot down. The sheer terror of the possibilities made Sansa's eyes well up with hot tears. She wished more than anything that Brienne were with her now. It was the first time she was truly alone, cantering to some uncertain dark future through vast, lonely winter hills.  
She thought the Queen might help her, but would be no point going to King's Landing. Jon's army was rebelling against the royally decreed warden of the North in her name. Sure, the Boltons had traitorously entered a marriage agreement with her, the Stark heir, but she wouldn't gamble on the crown's opinion of the Boltons; especially when the alternative was a Stark bastard leading a wilding horde. The reasonable solution was to ride to Highgarden, if she could get there alive, and send word to the queen. Even if Cersei intercepted the message, she wouldn't go to war with the Tyrell army just to extricate Sansa. She almost laughed through her tears at the thought of her impossible plan. She imagined arriving there after some time, starved, clothes ragged and extremities frozen, begging for the Queen's protection. A lifetime ago she would have given anything to live out the rest of her days safely tucked in the Tyrell rose gardens, quiet, sewing, hidden from all the world. Margaery might visit her. That last thought still excited her slightly, even though the rest made her feel ill.  
She was put out of her memories of her and Margaery brushing each other's hair by the sight of a massive moving body of mounted soldiers stretched out before her as she arrived at the top of a hill. She pulled her horse to a halt, smiling, nearly laughing, through her tears. One rider separated himself from the crowd, galloping across the valley towards her. She watched him approach, the sight of the enormous army and fluttering Arryn banners left behind him filling her with overwhelming relief. Littlefinger stopped just in front of her, cheeks flushed pink, eyes gleaming. She couldn't help but smirk in a satisfied way as he took her hand and gave it a prolonged, whiskery kiss. "What an excellent day, my beautiful lady," he said, exhilerated, "to win a battle."


	3. Chapter 3

Podrick was freezing. The forest was streaked with slivers of whispish dawn light, not yet offering any relief from the terrible night-time cold. His pale fingers shook as he fastened the Brienne's armor.  
"We will arrive today." She told the boy matter-of-factly. The words had the desired effect on Podrick, who looked like he might cry from delight.  
"I didn't think I could stand this cold much longer," he admitted, smiling behind her as he snapped tight the fastenings at her shoulders.   
"It _is_ winter. There will be no short supply of cold where we're going."  
"Tents, at least, m'lady."  
She couldn't help but smile. "Yes, Podrick. At least tents." His sudden cheer was infectious, as if they weren't about to walk into a field full of terrified men trying not to lose their minds at the thought of the upcoming unfavorable battle. Not that the wildlings ever looked properly terrified, Brienne thought. She admired their courage and resolve, despite her distaste for their rough, undisciplined ways. She would feel better about their odds if at least the few men they _did_ have were proper soldiers, trained followers familar with basic military strategies. The familiar sense of dread that always followed thoughts of the battle stirred her to action again. She stood up and moved so as to test that her armor was secure. "We're going, Pod."  
The two hoisted themselves onto their horses and set off with a fresh sense of urgency, travelling for several hours before the woods started to thin and the first signs of nearby encampment showed themselves by way of newly chopped trees and sites of hunting victories. As they neared the edge of the forest, Brienne was growing more and more shaken by the alarming quiet. A short ride confirmed her fears as they reached the first field of empty tents.  
The blood drained from Podrick's face. He had not taken seriously Brienne's suggestion that the battle may have already started. It didn't make sense. He looked at her fearfully. She was enraged.  
"SANSA?" Brienne yelled hoarsely, her voice threatening hysteria. She slid gracelessly from her horse and started pulling open some of the larger tents. "SANSA!" Podrick trailed, holding both their horses by the reins, unable to say anything. He felt feeble and helpless, watching the knight search and yell with increasing desperation.   
"She must be here, they would not have let her near the battle." Brienne marched down the row to the next lot of tents. "If she is not, then the worst has already happened. SANSA!" She couldn't stand it. Why had Jon decided to engage in battle so hastily? When it was still possible the Blackfish might come to their aid? _Maybe they knew I had been sent on a fool's errand,_ she thought bitterly, trying not to dwell on how little regard they must have had for her survival if that was the case. _No, lady Sansa must have believed I had a chance. Snow probably just doesn't listen to a word she says._ She was a sweet, earnest girl. Brienne yelled her name through building sobs, cursing Jon Snow.   
"M'lady!" Podrick yelped, reaching for his weapon. "A rider!"  
Brienne was snapped out of her reaction by the sound of hooves, confirming Pod's claim. Boltons. Her hand slammed to the handle of her sword and pulled viciously, ready to let her rage rip into the next figure she saw. It turned out not to be necessary. The red priestess appeared from behind a row of tents, an eyebrow raised at their battle stances. "I came back when I heard shouts. We had just rode off."  
Brienne, breathing heavily, dared to hope. "Is the lady Sansa alive? Have the others departed for battle?"  
Melisandre gave the knight an amused but powerful smile. "The battle," she said, slowly, for effect, "is won. Jon Snow has reclaimed Winterfell. A soldier has just come to fetch myself and the young Lady Mormont. As for lady Stark, I am not sure. She rode off. Maybe to save herself. Maybe she had other plans." It was infuriating how the woman's expression suggested she knew more than she said. It was probably not the case.  
Brienne sheathed Oathkeeper with angry force. She was completely taken aback by the news of the victory. Following a scuffle of hooves, a young northern soldier suddenly appeared behind Melisandre, flustered. "My lady, you just disapp-" he looked very surprised to see an emotional female knight and her confused-looking squire. Brienne saw a girl of about ten walk up behind him, dismounted. Fearless, she approached. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, giving Brienne a steely look.  
The two of them gaped, not having seen the confident high-born child before.  
There was a pause. "The lady of house Mormont is adressing you." The soldier said pointedly.  
Brienne bowed distractedly. "I am lady Brienne of Tarth, sworn to protect the lady Sansa Stark. We need to find her immediately, we - "  
"If so, why were you not here, protecting her, at a time of battle?" the girl was sharp and unyielding. Brienne frowned at her slightly. Sounding affronted, she replied.  
"The lady Sansa sent me on a personal mission to deliver a message to her uncle, the Blackfish."  
"Lord Snow will soon discern whether you are telling the truth." The Lyanna Mormont turned her back and went to find her horse. Satisfied that his lady was done talking, the soldier turned to Brienne. "You need not worry. Lady Stark arrived at the scene of battle with one lord Petyr Baelish and the Knights of the Vale, of whom I suppose he had command. They are both currently at Winterfell with Lord Snow. We are heading there now, ride with us."  
Brienne's lip trembled as her breath hitched. "I thank you for your information, good ser." She turned around as if to make for her horse, but emptied her stomach on the snow behind her instead, sick with relief.   
"Are you alright, m'lady?" Podrick rushed to her, but she waved him aside, straightening herself.   
"Fine, fine. We must ride right away." She stumbled towards her horse and leant against it for a moment before mounting.  
Melisandre turned her horse around fluidly, eyes glazed in thought. "Who is this Lord Baelish?" she enquired. "I have not heard of him."  
"A nobody who has risen from the dust. He married Lysa Arryn shortly before her death and now serves as the Protector of the Vale. He saved Sansa from King's Landing, abandoning his post on the king's small council, but then delivered her to the Boltons. He claims he was ignorant of the harm that would bring her." Brienne's mouth curled into a snarl. "Lord Renly and Lady Catelyn made it very clear that he was not a man to be trusted. Lady Sansa seems to be of the same mind."  
The priestess cocked an eyebrow. "What a curious man. He moves in high circles for someone of low birth. Strange fortunes have befallen him. Not unlike myself. I wonder at his purpose in this world."  
Brienne had no time for the red woman's mutterings. She led the trio out of the camp to join the skeptical lady Mormont and the young soldier, and they began their trek across the fields and past the gruesome battle carnage that lined their way to Winterfell.


End file.
